POKER PANTS
by Hunter of Artemis101
Summary: When Arthur pawns his mother's engagement ring, to pay back his loan for his poker game, it spins him into a chain of events. "I mean seriously? What kind of sick, twisted, step-brother steals you're pants?" An original Story. I own all!


_**Jaimee Busse  
Period: 9/10 Date: 5/30/13**_

**POKER PANTS**

I wanted to crawl underneath a rock (preferably a comfortable one) and die. I mean what kind of sick, sadistic, insane, berserk teenage step-brother steals your own pants? I half-sprint into my room, and slam the door, it resulting in a loud bang which echoed throughout the newly bought, still shiny mansion. I winced, half expecting my mother to scold me about the loud banging of doors. I pause for a minute, and then when I hear no response, I get back to my agonizing search.

Aimlessly, I began my search to find my missing dress pants. I could have been wrong about the whole thing; I told myself it was just a misunderstanding, although I wasn't exactly sure that was the truth. I rummage through my drawers frantically, tossing clothes to the side of me carelessly. My mother Helen would lecture me about the mess of clothes thrown to and fro… that is- if she didn't kill me first.

Scoffing at the thought, I avert my attention towards finding the black, slick pants. I let out a cry of frustration and hopelessness as I tossed the last garment out of my drawer. I turn toward my closet and begin to search, though I knew that it wasn't there. I felt my hope draining and flickering, as I pushed each hanger swiftly to the side. When there were no dress pants there was of course another cry of panic, and another recitation towards ripping my own hair out. I guess you could say I'm a tad bit of a neurotic guy.

This wasn't happening, it couldn't be. It was my worst nightmare come true-come alive. I had thought that Tyson wouldn't dare stood this low. I had truly believed that my half-brother wouldn't do this. He didn't have the guts; he didn't have the brains, the smarts.

But he _was_ crazy, and another point on the negative side- this was Tyson I'm talking about here.

Which meant I had to stop him, in one way or another.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself; you probably have no idea what I'm talking about. So let's go back to the beginning.

The real beginning, back when all this stuff was only a nightmare.

Well, I guess the real beginning was when I met my new half-brother Tyson, around a week ago. Our parents Bart and Helen were newly engaged. And complete lovebirds while I'm at it, like, the gagging kind of lovebirds. The ones who feed each other off forks and then use the fork again. Which is completely unsanitary, and they're probably going to catch a bad case of mono. While I mentioned I'm a bit of a neoteric, I'm also a neat-freak – definitely type A and almost OCD. I even carry hand sanitizer, which I guess a lot of people do. But I'm also sure that people don't name their hand sanitizer "Fred" and have been carrying it around since they were five.

Yep, this makes me so popular at school, and even more popular with my older sister Blaire who's been teasing me about that since I was eight.

It was nighttime now, long after they had announced are engagement and my mother Helen came over to Blaire and I. "Arthur, Blaire, I'd like you to meat Bart's son." She gestured some bad dressed, scraggly teen towards us. From the look of disgust scrawled across my sister's expression, I could tell she was trying very hard not to strangle the poor kid for ruining our picture perfect family image.

To describe Tyson in one word it would be weird. He looked only fourteen and had the stubble of an aging man. His hair was a complete mess, in comparison to a rat's nest. I could tell this hairstyle would lead towards my mother consistently nagging for him to get a haircut. Another weird thing about him; he didn't smile, nor frown. Tyson just had a humored grin, almost evil like, stretched out across his lips. His expression didn't waver as he looked us up and down.

But the weirdest thing of all was his pants.

They were the casual jeans, which wouldn't seem that out of the ordinary except this was an engagement party. Everyone was wearing suits, and formal dresses. Since we came from a rich family, Blaire and I had top class outfits. Not him though. Just jeans. And not just jeans, dirty ones, grimy ones. Dirt was splattered along the sides and had a variety of rips. I tried not to stare at them, but it was a hard sight to tear you're eyes from. Even proper, perfect sister Blaire couldn't contain her liquid brown eyes from staring down at them every second.

Our mother caught us staring, and gave us a meaningful look. A thin, wincing smile appeared on Blaire's lips. She slowly, almost hesitantly, stretched her hand out towards Tyson. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Tyson."

He stared at her, with that same crooked smile and out came the words that Blaire had come to hate.

"'Sup." Not "hi", not "hello", not "pleased to make your acquaintance", just "'Sup." My mom wasn't fazed by his words, but Blaire just stared at Tyson in awe, like she couldn't believe that someone on the upper east side of New York City would dare do such a thing. I coughed awkwardly, desperate to change the subject.

"Uh, hi, Tyson. I'm Arty." He gave me a curt nod, his crooked smile never leaving his face. I tried not to shrink from his gaze, but his smug smile made me uneasy. Bart, my soon to be step-dad walked over.

"I see you met my boy." He nodded downward to Blaire and I. Her face was scrunched up, like she resisting the urge to strangle Tyson right there on the spot. Talk about a dysfunctional family.

"Yes Bart." Blaire responded through clenched teeth, almost seething to him. "You're boy Tyson, he's very… charming." She began to play with her long, auburn hair, a habit that she received whenever on the verge of a dramatic meltdown. I rolled my eyes, trying not scoff. Blaire then cleared her throat. "It's just that you failed to mention you're son to…me and Arthur."

My mom, Helen, sent her a meaningful look, one that she didn't cripple under. "Maybe not to you two, but I've known about Tyson for quite some time."

Blaire's eyes narrowed, her words turning icy. "And you've failed to mention this to me, mother?" It sounded more like an accusation than a question.

Smirking slightly, I wrapped my arms around Blaire's. "Actually mom, I'm pretty sure that you _did _mention Tyson to the two of us." I felt her stiffen instantly, and I knew that she would be irate with me later. Shrugging my arm off innocently, Blaire replied through clenched teeth one more.

"I think I'll go get a drink. I was wondering if my lovely brother could accompany more." I sighed as she patted my arm, which seemed more like a punch. And trust me, it wasn't a love tap. She averted her attention back to our step-brother, stretching her hand. "It was so nice to meet you, Tyson, finally." Yeah, I thought sarcastically. Right.

"Ditto," he replied staring at her hand like it was a disease. Blaire scowled, before gripping my arm tightly and pulling me away from the newly puzzled family. I followed close behind her, only looking back once behind me, to send them an apologetic look.

She kept her eyes on the refreshments table, her arm never leaving mine, almost like a death grip. Eyes on cup, she filled it with water. Her jaw was still set.

"Well, dear sister, you couldn't have been any ruder. I filled my own cup with water, my eyes darting back to Tyson and his jeans.

"_Me_?" Her eyes widened in surprise, as she whisper shouted. "I was the one being perfectly polite to that un-proper delinquent." I shrugged her icy words off, taking a sip finally.

"I thought he was decent, well, except for his…" I finished the sentence, Blaire's words matching mine in unison.

"His pants." She drank her drink, her eyes flickering to Tyson in disapproval. "I mean come on, jeans? To an engagement party! Unbelievable."

"Well, I'm so sorry he ruined you're plans to our perfect, picture family." For some reason, when Blaire ever mentioned our new family being perfect, it struck a nerve. Maybe it was because our dad left us when we were younger. Or maybe it was because I was far from perfect…

"Perfect?" She snorted at me, brushing her hair back. "Please. That's not my goal. I'm only thinking about this (new) family's reputation. The engagement was in the newspapers, so why couldn't they write a negative article on our newest step-brother?"

"Okay, fine. You do prove a point." She gave me a smile. "But, you can't just judge him by the first time you met him."

"No," she replied her smile fading. "But, I can judge him on his pants." Ugh, of course that would be Blaire's response. I guess I failed to mention that Blaire was an aspiring fashion designer. She already had an internship for it, and honor grades so I doubted she would have trouble to become one. "And besides, our family is not perfect. Especially about you're little addiction."

"It's not in addiction," I muttered, flushing in embarrassment. Normally, I didn't care if Blaire brought up that. But here was not the time. I held up my hands in protest, anger flickering sharply through me. "Don't mention that now." There was anger, yes, but there was also guilt. Guilt for what I had done the week before. I had forgotten what I had happened for a while, but now it was all rushing back to me.

I couldn't believe I had forgotten about this!

"Why? You never cared if I mentioned you're Poker Addict." She set her drink down, eyeing me suspiciously. "Don't tell me you owe money again!"

"No." I said. "I don't owe because I paid."

"Oh," her face softened, then hardened. "With what money?"

"Blaire, I did something bad. Real bad." She set her drink down and glanced around the room nervously.

"What?" She whispered. "Did you take some of mom's money?" I wish that I had that instead of the thing I had done, because I did something a lot worse than taking some of Helen's money. I coughed, my throat suddenly feeling like it was closing. "I might've…pawned our mother's engagement ring."

"_What_?" Blaire stared at me for a moment, placing her head in her hand. "You didn't. Please tell me you didn't, Arthur."  
I winced. "It sounds a lot worse when you say it out loud. I panicked, okay? I had one day to get the money and I wasn't going to ask_ you_ for money." I hoped she didn't take that the wrong way. I just had too much pride to go to my older sister for money, especially when she was always drilling me to stop playing. "And I planned to buy the ring back, as soon as I won back the money."

"Arthur?" Blaire asked innocently.

"Yes?"

"You're in idiot."

I sighed. "Well, what else was I supposed to do?"

"I could probably name a million different things to do, that don't include 'pawn your own mother's engagement ring'!" She whisper shouted, and my eyes darted around the room once more. I prayed that no one had heard.  
Then, after her face had cooled, she began to rummage through her purse. She grabbed her wallet out.

"No, Blaire. I want to handle this on my own."

"Well, clearly you haven't handled it. So here." She handed me a couple hundreds. "Consider this you're Christmas Present." I stared at the money, regretfully. My hand began to reach out hesitantly. This would solve all my problems. But, was I really too prideful to except money from my own sister? Apparently I wasn't because my hand found the money and stuffed it in my dress pants.

"Uh, thanks Blaire."

"I don't think a thank you will cut this, little brother. But, you can worry about that later. Go get mom's ring back."

I nodded, not noticing a certain pair of splattered jeans standing at the refreshment table.

I changed quickly, setting my dress pants on my bed. I grabbed my jeans and slipped them on, and took off my dress shirt, replacing it with a t-shirt. I decided to tell my mother quickly, before I left. There was no need to get grounded for leaving without her permission. I dodged through people, until I saw my mother Helen's familiar dress. She was standing next to Bart, talking to my third cousin, a cheerful look on her face.

I didn't exactly have the time to wait for them to finish up their conversation (which by the way, my mother rambles) so I sort of just barged in. "Mom, I'm going out okay." She turned towards me, and sent me a look. The look that says 'I can't believe you just said that'.  
She laughed nervously at my cousin, and then her eyes analyzed my outfit. "Arthur," she said through gritted teeth. "We are at a party." Did I forget to mention that my mom's exactly like my sister Blaire? She's an older, smarter version of Blaire who had control of all the things I did. Yay.

"I know, I just have to step out for a few minutes." Total lie, but this was important. If she knew her engagement ring was pawned, she would actually want me to go get it back. But then again, she didn't.

"No. Arthur. Please go get changed."

"Please, mom?" I pleaded one last time. "It's really important."

"Nothing's more important than this party. You have to be with family."

Then I heard the familiar pair of heels clicking. Normally, I would sigh when I heard those, but she had great charisma. Blaire walked up to us and grabbed the side of my arm.

"We know, mom. That's exactly why we have to step out. Turns out Grandma's delayed flight, isn't delayed anymore. She called us to come pick her up." She stared at us, and I could tell she was debating the matter in her head.

"Okay." She said. "But hurry back, you two. And be nice to your Grandmother!" Blaire gave her a victorious smile, while I just rolled my eyes. We walked slowly away, and then began to half-run when we got around the next corner and out of our mother's eyesight.

"Do you have the money?" I mentally face palmed.

"I left them in my other pants. I'll be right back."

I thought I heard her mutter 'of course _you_ did' but I didn't escalate it. Instead, I ran up the stairs and glanced in my room, my jeans already half off-

The pants were missing from my bed.

Well, not entirely missing.

Instead of my black, wrinkled dress pants lain against the bed, there were jeans there. Dirty, grimy ones.

"_I half-sprint into my room, and slam the door, it resulting in a loud bang which echoed throughout the newly bought, still shiny mansion. I winced, half expecting my mother to scold me about the loud banging of doors. I pause for a minute, and then when I hear no response, I get back to my agonizing search."_

Well, I guess now you're caught up.

After all of that, I walk back downstairs. Slowly, almost like I just lost something. Which, I guess I did.

Blaire was talking to my mother's friend, and when I got to the last step, her eyes widened at me. So did my mother's friend, Gwen.

Did I have spinach in my teeth?

"Uh, Arty." Her eyes were planted on the ceiling, not looking at me. Her face was flushed. "You should probably go check on something in the room." She was probably referring to the money, but boy was I wrong.

"Arthur?" My mother's friend asked. "Where are your pants?" I was really embarrassed, as I glanced down. I did a double take. Instead of my jeans, there were my boxers. My boxers with hearts on them.

"I, uh, duh?" I managed to splutter, holding my hands in front of my pants. I tried to say something, but my attempt was unsuccessful. The words kept getting stuck in my throat. Meanwhile, Blaire's embarrassment looked like it had faded. She looked like she wanted to throw her glass at my head. I winced at the thought. Swallowing loudly I managed to come up with a reply; "Blaire, we have to go." There was urgency dripping in my voice and I hoped she would get the message. Judging by the expression forming on her face, it seemed like she did.

"Yeah, Arthur's right. Sorry about…this Gwen." She gestured towards my heart designed underwear. I glared at her, still impersonation a tomato. "We have to go pick up our Grandmother from the airport." She then grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the room, still managing to give Gwen a small wave. I then realized how many times she had tugged me around tonight, and I swatted her hand away. Right as we were nearing the Elevator we heard Gwen mutter quizzically, "without pants?"

"I can't believe you were so daft." She patronized me in the elevator, when there wasn't any publicity around and I had told her the news about Tyson stealing my pants- with the money inside the pocket. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest and began to pace around the tiny elevator, which I found pretty amusing.

"And with my money, too! Just wait until mother learns that her step-son is a thief!" I nodded in agreement. Tyson was weird, but a thief as well? Stealing people's pants isn't exactly a quality I want in a brother who's going to be living with us. Sure, I was pretty mad, but Blaire looked ready to spew fire.

"Just wait until I get my hands on that-" I cut her off.

"Whoa, whoa." I consoled her. "Calm down. I'm positive he'll be back." I said, remembering distinctly of the night I played Poker.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Call it a hunch." I grinned at her, and just as I did the elevator door dinged open. My theory was more than a hunch, though, I realized, as we stepped into our limo. Because I knew that it was the truth.

I guess I knew it all along.

"Cold Cash Pawnshop please," I told the driver. "And step on it." I leaned back in my seat, and she glanced at me suspiciously as she buckled her seatbelt.

"What's going on? Why are we going there?" She narrowed her eyes. "You know something that I don't know, don't you? I can't believe you still won't tell me what's going on!" I ran a hand through my brown hair, and prayed that I was right about this entire thing.

"You'll see."

When we got there, finally, my nerves were fried. I was so sure at first, but what if I was wrong? That would mean that Tyson probably had finally figured out how much money was in my pant pocket, and was spending it. This wasn't good, because I still needed to get my money back and more importantly, my mother's ring.

Blaire tightened her coat around her, as we stepped out. "Thanks," I told the unknown driver. "Wait for us."

Then, we hurried inside. I burst through the door, hoping to see the sight I was expecting. I was. I looked at Blaire to see her reaction to the scene that was going on. Her face scrunched up in surprise, only it looked like she was smelling something bad.

"Hey, Tyson." I shouted, approaching him. He was in the middle of buying the engagement ring and he flinched, startled. He looked at us in surprise and I continued, "'Sup." It looked like Blaire was scowling at my words, but I couldn't be sure.

"Who told you?" Tyson questioned, placing the engagement ring down on the glass counter. There were only some buyers in the store, but they stared at us in curiosity, along with the man who was selling Tyson the ring. Then he stared at me, eyebrows raised.

"Where are your pants, Arty?" Well, so much for the dramatic scene.

Some buyers and sellers in the store snickered at the sight of my heart designed underpants. I flushed, feeling my cheeks ignite in embarrassment, but kept on going, focusing on his first question.

"No one told me, I figured it out on my own."

"Took you long enough," he replied. Tyson tossed me the ring and I caught it with ease, despite being in my underpants. I resisted the urge to wipe it off with a disinfectant wipe and clasped it tightly in my hands.

"Care to tell me what's going on?" Blaire asked, cutting into our conversation. She eyed us each in suspicion, and tapped her polished fingernail on the glass counter. "And want to tell me how you two already know each other, and don't you dare deny it because it's pretty obvious."

I grinned at Tyson, then back to Blaire, "Gambling and Poker, last week. It was when I bombed out all of my money and had to resort to pawning mom's ring. He was the one who had stood behind and told me which cards to play."

"So you cheated," Blaire stated in disapproval. "Do you realize what the other men would've done to you, if they realized you were cheating?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "But I lost in the end, and he said he owed me."

"Then how come you didn't recognize him last night?"

"It was dark in the room when we played. I couldn't make out his face. But, I could make out his pants."

"Of course," Blaire stared at Tyson's pants in disgust. "Why do even wear those worn out, things?" Tyson looked down at his dirty pants, sheepishly.

"They're my lucky pants."

"His Poker Pants," I analyzed, slapping Tyson a high five with the hand that wasn't holding the ring. Blaire rolled her brown eyes in disgust mumbling, "Boys." I heard her mutter, but ignored it thoroughly.

"I owed him." Tyson stated. "And I might've heard you guys talking near the refreshments."

"Now it all makes sense," Blaire said, and then she paused for a moment, her mouth hanging open half ajar. "But one thing doesn't; why didn't you let us know you were doing this?"

Tyson scratched the back of his neck, responding immediately. "I looked for you guys, I really did. I checked Arthur's room, and then I saw his abandoned dress pants. I knew the money was in it, so I took the pants."

"Why the entire pants?"

"I guess I have a thing for pants." I chuckled, and even Blaire cracked a smile for his comment. Then, we all heard a flash come behind us. A teenage girl, around our age, was snapping a photo of me on her cell phone.

"I have to get me some of those Poker Pants," I muttered as more people in the store began to take pictures of me.

~FIN~


End file.
